Crazy
by Yank
Summary: There's really no summarizing this one.  The only thing I can say about it is that it isn't exactly traditional fanfiction... oh, just read it already, would you?


She skipped lightly into the bedroom - her pallid face harboring a small smile, her spidery-fingered hand in a loose fist, her spare frame draped in slightly oversized wisteria pajamas - and flopped down on her bed. She looked to her left, grinned roguishly, and said,

"I didn't think we would ever get away from Mom, did you?"

Silence.

"Yeah, this is, like, the third time this month she's been harping on me about spacing out."

Silence.

"I don't know what's been up with her lately." Her grin faded, and she bit her lip. "Sometimes I catch her staring at me and it's like she doesn't know me. She did that yesterday, actually - did you see?"

Silence.

"I asked her what was wrong, and she looked kind of dumbfounded for a second. Then she snapped out of it and was all like, 'Nothing, I'm just tired.'"

Silence.

"I know, complete lie, right? How dumb does she think I am?"

Silence.

"Aww, you're so sweet." She smiled. "Anyway, what did you think of Leann today?"

Silence.

"Huh... you could be right. She probably won't be Music Minister for too much longer, anyway."

Silence.

"Aw, stop it. You know I hate compliments like that."

Silence.

"True." Her voice dropped. "I don't want to be a Music Minister, though. I _hate_ church. I _hate_ churchy music. I want to play fun stuff."

Silence.

"I don't have the guts, remember?"

Silence.

"Whatever."

Silence.

"But anyway, did you notice that she kept looking in your direction when I smiled at you? Every time she did she got this totally weirded-out look on her face, like 'Who the heck is _that_?'"

Silence.

"How could she have not seen you? You were standing right there by the sanctuary doors."

Silence.

"Maybe she thought you looked too old for me. I _am_ only thirteen, after all."

Silence.

"You have to admit, you look about twenty-five in those suits you wear."

Silence.

"Yeah, I know you're fourteen, hon. I might not be a genius like you, but I can still remember this stuff - believe it or not," she added teasingly.

Silence.

"I'm not that close to a genius. My IQ's only 129."

Silence.

"Oh, shut up, fairyboy," she rebutted playfully. "I'm not a genius. End of story."

Silence.

"Okay, so maybe I'm a good speller, but I'm still not a genius."

Silence.

"Okay, I made it to the _regional_ spelling bee - but I'm still not a genius. I misspelled stalag _and_ plumicorn." She rolled her eyes.

Silence.

"I _know_ I hadn't heard those words before, but I should've been able to figure them out."

Silence.

"Oh, come on!" she laughed. "You know as well as I do that I probably failed that Jeopardy! contestant test. The only reason I know Nelly Furtado even exists is because of some stupid Verizon commercial. How on earth was I supposed to get that one question about her?"

Silence.

"Honestly, you probably would've failed too."

Silence.

"No, I don't mean it like that! They have a super-duper-über-high cutoff."

Silence.

"But you're also just as pop-culturally illiterate as I am."

Silence.

She paused, then rolled onto her side. "Sorry. I know I'm the queen of non-sequiturs, but I've been getting weird, what-are-you-doing stares from... well, plenty of people lately. Mom, Dad, Leann, that one random guy at Quiktrip, Lizzie... but then again, Lizzie gives me weird looks almost every day."

Silence.

"Hah. It's kind of in her little-sister contract."

Silence.

"And ever since she ditched homeschooling and went to public school, she's changed. She's a lot less silly now than she used to be... less like my wacky little sis and more like a cookie-cutter school kid..." The last few words had a distinctly bitter edge.

Silence.

"But anyhow, all these people keep looking at me like... well..." She hesitated and bit her lip again, then forced the rest of the sentence out. "...like I'm crazy or something."

Silence.

"Am I crazy?"

Silence.

"Quit straddling the fence, dang it! I don't care about the stupid impact on my psychological well-being!" Her voice was low, frenzied, intense as it had never been before. "Arty, am I crazy?" For a second, she looked truly demented.

Silence.

Her expression gradually morphed from tortured to serene, and she nodded slowly. "You're right. Who cares if I'm crazy? I'm happy the way I am."

Silence.

"And I have you," she added tenderly. "That's all that matters. I don't have anybody else."

Silence.

"I love you too, Art."

Silence.

"Yeah..." She stretched and yawned hugely. "I'm tired too. Let's just hit the hay. G'night, genius boy."

She leaned forward, closed her eyes, and kissed...

Air.

Then she rolled onto her other side and curled up in a ball, fingers twined around an imaginary hand beside her neck. As she closed her eyes and drifted off to Nod, a broad, dreamy smile spread across her youthful face. In sleep she looked so innocent, so content, so normal. She didn't look one bit crazy...


End file.
